Extreme Makeover: Ron Edition
by rainydaysuedes
Summary: Ron shows Hermione his new room in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and cuteness ensues. Post-War oneshot.


"Welcome," Ron Weasley said, flourishing his arms in a dramatic gesture, "to the new, well, okay, old, but most definitely improved, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!"

Hermione smiled, clapping a little, happy for Ron's true enthusiasm over something, which was sadly rare these days. Ginny, however, merely sidestepped her brother into foyer and looked around, seemingly unimpressed.

"What all did you do? Dust?" She stifled a yawn.

"And removed every last wall hanging!" Ron cried indignantly. "That old bat's charms took hours to undo. I thought I would have to live with her cold, beady eyes staring at me every time I wanted to whip up some homemade pie!"

"First off, I undid the majority of those charms," Hermione said with laughter in her voice, "and secondly, you never make pie. You actually don't cook at all."

"Precisely!" Ron agreed, before dropping a quick kiss on her cheek. "But now I can! In the comfort of my own home, no less!"

Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly, muttered something about going to find Harry, and slunk off down the hall. Ron smiled as he watched her walk away.

"Good old Gin," he mused. "Now, where are my manners! This being your first official time in the newly renovated bachelor pad of the Bro Who Lived and Big Daddy Wheez, it is both my duty, and my honor, to ask if I may take your coat."

Hermione pulled off her light jacket, and raised her eyebrows. "Bachelor pad? Last I checked, the owners were both young men in very committed relationships."

"Er," Ron said, hanging the jacket lopsided in the closet, "I just heard that term on the Muggle radio you gave me, and I was waiting to try it in a sentence. No good?"

Hermione forgave his negligence, and would save her thoughts on Big Daddy Wheez for another day. Right now, he was just too cute to be annoyed with.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he questioned.

She started off toward the stairwell; it wasn't like she hadn't been there countless times before that summer. "You were being endearing," she shrugged.

He followed after her, his long stride making up for his late departure from the entryway. Soon, he was right behind her, trotting up the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"I want to see what you've done with your room," she said, remembering his promise that she could see it the second it was finished. The first two months of the summer, he'd denied her access to his bedroom, saying it was some big surprise, and that he wanted it just right. Hermione understood; it was the first place that was truly his, and the first place he actually had money to spend on, thanks to his summer job at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Finally, at the top floor, Hermione came to a humble, unmarked wooden door. She pointed to it and raised her eyebrows. Ron nodded.

She was... surprised, to say the least. So accustomed to his bright orange quarters at the Burrow, she was shocked to see plain white walls (albeit covered in pictures of him, her, and his family, but mainly just him and her) a maroon bedspread (without the Canon's logo emblazoned on it, thankfully) two dressers (not overflowing with too-short jeans and snug sweaters) and a couch on the left wall by the window. It was so different than what she usually associated with him, but that was just it. Ron had become a different person in the last year, especially in the last few months. He'd grown up, and his interior decorating choices expressed it. Her heart swelled with pride.

"Ron," she said, making her way to the sleek couch overlooking the city, "it's wonderful."

If you thought Ron's tendency to blush madly at Hermione's praises lessened over the course of their relationship, you would be wrong. He sat down next to her on the couch, and grabbed her hand.

"You think so?" He asked, tracing his fingers in the spaces between hers. "I just... I needed it to be different, you know?"

She nodded. "Oh, I know." When she and Ron had returned with her parents from Australia, she'd opted to redo the guest bedroom at her house, and make it her room indefinitely. She hadn't been able to take being in her childhood room for too long; it gave her lovely memories, but it wasn't who she was anymore. It felt too foreign to be comfortable.

Plus, she couldn't justify sleeping with her boyfriend in front the stuffed animals that had called the top of her shelf home for the last ten years.

"I'm worried," he blurted out, interrupting the silence and her thoughts.

She frowned, upset that the somber moment had evidently put a damper on his cheerfulness. All she wanted, all she would ever want, was for him to be happy. "What is it you're worried about?"

He shook his head, his eyes studying the city sprawling out below them. "I guess it's just stupid, but... But it's August first. That's one month until you go back to Hogwarts and I start Auror training."

"You're surely not thinking about giving up on being an Auror? It's what you've always wanted!" She hoped he couldn't hear the disappointment in her voice. Okay, so all she was for her boyfriend to be happy. And an Auror.

"No, no," he said quickly, assurance thick in his voice. "I definitely still want to be an Auror, and I know how eager you are to get your NEWTs out of the way, but... I'm just sad that we only have a month left to be together like this."

So that's what this was about. Hermione felt her heart melt a little; Ron always had a way of making her feel like the most loved girl in the whole world, witch or muggle. "I know. But we'll both be so busy, and when we're not, we can write to each other, and you are _definitely_ meeting me at every Hogsmeade visit."  
He nodded, but still seemed dissatisfied. She was glad (as glad as she could be at his glumness) that his lack of happiness was due to his imminent lack of her. Because she had some news that she thought would fix that.

"Ron, did I tell you about the letter I received from McGonagall yesterday?"

He shook his head, intrigued.

"Well, she said since I'm quite bright—"

"The brightest," Ron corrected automatically.

Hermione grinned. "Right. Since I am the brightest, and I'll be the oldest, and I already have a lot of, well, real-world experience, she said if I work hard this term, I can sit my NEWTS in December, and graduate right before winter holiday."

Ron's mouth dropped open at the news. "Are you joking? That's amazing, Hermione!"

After sharing a brief string of celebratory kisses, she wanted to tell him that he, in fact, was what was amazing. But instead, she merely smiled, and planned out in her mind what she was about to say.

"And, well, since I'll be graduating early, and hopefully starting my Ministry work before schedule, I..." She thought of how to put it without sounding demanding, but then she remembered that he was Ron, and she loved him, and he loved her, and she knew he wouldn't care.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I'm going to need a place to stay, here in London, and I heard on the street that there's a newly renovated bachelor pad in Grimmauld Place that would be a wonderful place to live."

Realization appeared in Ron's light eyes. "Hermione Granger, did you just ask to move in with me?"

She shrugged. "I would have described it as more of a demand, but yes, I suppose I did."

He smile broadly, and her heart soared, knowing she'd brought a little bit of his happiness back, and knowing there would be so much more happiness to come.

"Well," he said, standing up and gesturing around the room. "We've got a charming spot on the top level that would love another occupant. What do you think?"

She joined him in the middle of the room. "I love it, and I love you," she stated plainly. "There's just one little thing that's missing."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. Merlin, bless those beautiful ginger eyebrows. "And what's that?"

She laughed, because he knew her so well, and she thought he would have guessed it instantly. But she supposed past instances proved Ronald Weasley, despite every wonderfully perfect thing about him, could be a little slow to pick up on on obvious things. She laughed some more.

"Bookshelves."


End file.
